I've long prided myself on being a lone wolf, waiting for noone to take me to that broadway show or to the new restaurant's opening. When I wanted to experience new scenery or culture, I always just left. Rather than accepting excuses, from others or myself, to not wander, I laced up my boots and went & saw & felt. The freedom to go when and where I chose had been one of the greatest gifts I'd given myself. As liberating as the open road still feels, my wolf pack has definitely changed. Honestly, my memories of certain adventures are seriously lacking now. I always remembered rolling around the bend and seeing the familiar majesty of the Rockies as I barreled on to explore Glacier National Park as one of the most invigorating and strangely soothing feelings of my life. I remember turning off my radio to hear what I was seeing and the taste of that cider I'd bought at a stand on the side of the road as being so crisp and lovely. Here's the thing with evolving and finding someone who excites your soul the same way solo travel used to: all these memories would be better if they were shared. So, while choosing not to do big trips as to help flatten the curve, I'm left to build the wanderlust wishlist for sometime in the future. I want to go back. I want to wander the canyons and painted rocks in Southern Utah. I want to take 66 and stop at the pitstops along the way. I want to venture deeper into this National Park and watch whales off Puget Sound again. I want to re-write my memories and paint new pictures.
This is the season when the gypsy in my soul rebels against adulthood and the need to stay put. Usually, I'm packing up my car so that on the last day of school, I can say goodbye to my students and just take off for a week or two. This year, though, I don't get to say farewell to my kiddos the right way and I'm not packing up my car to go find the next amazing sight, but instead I'm loving finding new, more simple adventures with my person, refurbishing, hiking nearby forests, and, hopefully, camping closer by. Luckily, just before being a responsible and caring human meant staying home or wearing a mask, Mr. Handsome took me on a Valentine's Day adventure~ the memories serving to tide me over until the next one. An on-the-fly response to, "What is one place you've always wanted to explore?", New Orleans became our weekend get away. This is a charming city brimming with tradition and fraught with twisted history, full of friendly and proud people, eager to share their community and culture. Very walkable and seemingly safe, New Orleans' attitude is Laissez les bons temps rouler! Spontaneous second lines, street musicians, and a vibrant food scene create the stereotypical party atmosphere that The Big Easy is known for. But, the images of litter laden avenues and grimey, rat-infested whistle stops are sadly misconstrued. In fact, we both noted that we'd never seen a city invest more time and energy into keeping the streets clean and tourist-friendly. Starting a new tradition, we got up before the city woke to wander the abandoned streets and explore the historic landmarks. Hearing a city's heartbeat and gazing onward and as the sun gently wakes quickly became our favorite way to view and feel a brand new place. Sure, I've fallen for a world traveler who has lived abroad and explored exotic places; I have experienced Kerouac- esque expeditions. Yet, this simple weekend getaway with its strolls through spanish moss and ornate courtyards is my all time favorite trip and will keep my wanderlust satiable while I wait for the world to safely reopen.
It has been well over a year since I shared any musings publicly and quite honestly, for a blog focused mostly on living a life that feels adventurous, I missed documenting a hell of a year. Self re-discovery, a health journey, solo camping and nature-rich peregrinations, a divorce and, later, falling in love with someone new, and a pilgrimage towards happiness added up to one of the most adventurous years of my life.
But, until now, I haven't had any desire to blog my world. Of course, with the strange turn of events this spring, I, like most of the world, have had to re-write my plans and expectations for this year. I have been imagining what the tales of 2020 will be sometime in the future. Will we remember that gas had gotten so cheap, but we couldn't go anywhere? Or, rather, will we recall that we relearned how to have our own adventures? Will we focus on the governmental flubs or the generosity and comraderie that formed? What will history say about how we learned to deal with our world being shaken up? Despite anxiety regarding employment and culture shifts, I have realized a very important thing: I am happy. Regardless of the state of the world or the horrible images and soundbytes I am being inundated with, I am more myself than I've been in years and this quarantine is like getting to spend quality time with me. I listen to vinyl and like to eat dinner at the table. I'm a 30 something who still climbs trees and digs in the dirt and brings pretty rocks home. I would rather be with my dogs than most people and was great at social distancing before it was a thing. My name is Karen. This is a blog. I'm a Northern girl. I'm more alive and fulfilled when there's a slight chill in the air. I love skiing and snowsshoeing and living like a true Yooper. And, although I know I'll regret saying this when April rolls around and I'm still shoveling out my drive, I love winter.
No, its not my favorite season, but I miss it when its the end of December and I'm still stuck waiting for some powder to shred or some ice to slide upon. Truthfully, family is the reason to love going "home". Especially when you're from an ever-shrinking town, the only reason to keep going to your hometown is for the kinship. This season, however, was also about chasing snowflakes and icebergs, since my city cottage is experiencing a lack thereof. Its chilly, fall days that make me miss the mountains and our little wood cabin there. This is a throw back. We're the people who prefer plaid and muddy boots on chilly days to a badly timed dub step dance party. We sleep better to the sounds of wind through trees and owls hooting than to ambulances and electric lights. We're the ones who take a pre-vacation vacation, climbing new rolling rocks, just to see the view. That one weekend, we found our solace in the hills and cathedrals in trees. We're the ones chasing our weekends on the freeways and mountain sides, just to see what is over the next hill. We climbed on some rocks before heading into town to go antiquing. Turning right out of a [creepy] antique shop, we decided to see what was over the hill. Cows. Cows were over the hill. Oh an another hill to cross over, revealing a little sign that read Blackwater Falls was only 12 miles. So, of course, we hiked the short mile trail back to Black Water Falls. (Blackwater Falls, WV) ...and the 10 mile slightly more challenging trail over to Elkala Falls. ...and the 8 mile hike to Muddy Creek Falls. (Thank goodness for camera's zoom features! We heard a weird scratchy noise out the cabin window and peeked to see a large bear scratching her back. I preferred seeing her from this side of the window). ...And the 5 1/2 mi. trail from the cabin to Swallow Falls. He's a lumberjack and that's okay
As a teacher, the wandering season is quickly ending. And, although Autumn brings the best wandering weather, truthfully I am feeling the end of summer blues. I feel like a feral bird whose wings have been clipped and confined to lie, flapless, in a wire cage. And so, choosing positivity over self-pity, I am choosing to relish the uneven footing on the pebbled beach and warm breeze in my face. There's always the weekends. At least I have sunkissed cheeks and dusting of freckles to remember I did in fact live Meanwhile in the Hoh Rainforest in the Olympia Penninsula of Washington State... ..there is so much life.
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